Clayton laughed. “Honestly, I cannot believe you lasted an entire evening. I was quite certain Theodora would ruin it all at the dinner table last night by bursting out with laughter.”
“She did a fine job of acting,” Lucas replied. “She even reprimanded me for my behavior.” He chuckled.
The three men made their way to a large wooden table and chairs that sat near the wall of windows. They each took a seat. As Lucas took his, he glanced outside to see Frances and her mother poking around the flowers as if they were actually interested in horticulture. Frances looked miserable, while her mother craned her neck, obviously searching for Sir Reginald.
“It seems you both know how my evening went, how was yours, Bell?” Lucas asked, doing his best to focus on his friends instead of watching Frances in the gardens.
“A success, I’d say.” Bell’s sharp ice-blue eyes met his. “I didn’t spill anything on Lord Copperpot.”
“The man you’re valeting?” Lucas asked.
Bell replied with a nod. “So far I believe I’ve been quite convincing. To all save one person, at least.”
“Oh, do tell, who might that be?” Clayton leaned forward and waggled his brows.
“Only the most exasperating lady’s maid I’ve ever come across,” Bell replied.
Lucas arched a brow. “A lady’s maid, you say?”
“Yes, she’s given me no end of hassle,” Bell replied, a frown on his face. “She’s the most distrustful chit I’ve ever known—and I’m a spy for Christ’s sake.”
“Doesn’t believe you’re a valet, Bell?” Clayton asked, chuckling.
Bell rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she believes I’m a male, let alone a valet.”
“Well, you can’t blame her, can you? It’s not as if you aren’t playacting,” Lucas added.
Bell braced one elbow on the table and frowned. “Be that as it may, I’ve never known anyone to take such an instant dislike to me.”
“Feelings hurt, Bell?” Clayton asked, giving him puppy-dog eyes.
“Hardly,” Bell scoffed.
“Is she one of our lot?” Clayton asked next.
“No,” Bell replied, “apparently she came with Lady Copperpot. She’s the daughter’s maid.”
Clayton shrugged. “Well, I can’t do anything about her behavior then, unless you’d like me to have a word with Lady Copperpot.”
“No. Nothing that drastic. She’s merely an annoyance. I’m entirely certain I can handle her.” Bell shook his head. “Meanwhile, Lucas, how is your wife search progressing? Any prospects yet?”
Lucas opened his mouth to mention Miss Wharton, when Bell continued. “I haven’t had time to do much research on any of them, but I do know of one young woman whom you should steer well clear of.”
“Who’s that?” Lucas asked.
“One Miss Frances Wharton.”
Lucas snapped shut his mouth. “Why?”
“Isn’t she the one who acted like a termagant at dinner last night?” Clayton asked. “A young lady who screams at servants is hardly the type of wife you’re looking for, Lucas. Besides I hear her father is destitute. No dowry there.”
Lucas cleared his throat and looked toward the door, desperate to change the subject. “What’s keeping Worth? Have either of you heard if he made it through the night?”
“Oh, you know Worth,” Clayton replied. “He’s always the last to make an entrance.”
As if he’d been summoned by his friends’ words, the Duke of Worthington came sauntering into the room. He glanced around to ensure the four of them were alone before saying in a booming voice, “Did someone call for a groomsman?”
“We were just talking about you,” Clayton said as Worth joined them at the table.
“Not to worry, gentlemen,” Worth replied with a grin. “I’m still in the game. My identity has not yet been revealed.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave them all a smug smile.
Clayton sighed. “Blast. There goes one hundred pounds.”
Worth arched a dark brow. “Whatever do you mean?”
Clayton pulled a purse from the inside pocket of his coat, removed a handful of bills, and tossed them toward Bell. “I made a side bet with Bell that you wouldn’t last the first night.”
“I am hurt by your lack of faith in me,” Worth replied, batting his eyelashes dramatically in Clayton’s direction. “And thank you, Bell, for believing in me,” he said to the marquess, who pocketed the money and bowed his head toward Worth.
“I take it no debutantes have come out to the stables yet then, Worth,” Lucas said with a laugh.
“One,” Worth answered. The brooding tone of his voice made Lucas glance at him twice.
“Really?” Bell asked, his voice taking on a clearly interested tone. “Who?”
Worth leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, his arms dangling along his sides. “Oh, only one Lady Julianna Montgomery.”
Bell’s eyes widened and he whistled. “Lady Julianna Montgomery?” he echoed. “The young lady you jilted two years ago?”
Chapter Nine
Frances told herself she wasn’t truly hoping she’d see Mr. Lucas when she went to the library again the next morning. But she couldn’t help the tug of disappointment in her chest when she opened the door and found the room empty. Servants’ tasks were scheduled, were they not? Had she been a fool to expect he might return with more wood for the fire again today?
She hurried over to the corner where she suspected the law tomes were housed, intent on seeming as if she was quite busy indeed if Mr. Lucas did enter the room. When five entire minutes had passed with no sign of him, she found herself dejectedly staring up at the large volumes, completely forgetting what she was looking for.
When the door opened a few moments later and Mr. Lucas strode in with his arms full of small pieces of wood, her heart thumped so hard in her chest that it hurt.
She swung around quickly, her rose-colored skirts swishing against her ankles. “Good morning,” she called, immediately regretting the loudness of her voice.
Her mother was constantly berating her for being loud, but Mr. Lucas didn’t seem to mind. A wide smile covered his face. His reply was equally exuberant. “I wondered if you would be here again, my lady.”
She lifted her skirts and made her way toward him. “Disappointed? Or pleased?” That was an awfully flirtatious thing to say, but she simply couldn’t help herself.
“Pleased. Definitely pleased.” He inclined his head toward her before continuing his path to the fireplace and setting down the logs.
She joined him there, standing a few paces away, while he removed his coat and tossed the logs onto the fire just as he’d done yesterday. She sighed. She could watch this all day.
“I trust you had a more relaxing dinner last night,” Mr. Lucas said without turning to look at her. “I noticed you somehow managed to be seated nowhere near Sir Reginald.”
“That was no coincidence,” she replied with a laugh. “I had tea with Lady Clayton yesterday afternoon and told her my plight.”
“You spoke with Theo…Lady Clayton?” Mr. Lucas cleared his throat.
Frances narrowed her eyes on him. Had he nearly called Lady Clayton by her Christian name? That was odd. “Yes, we had tea and a nice chat. She agreed to seat me elsewhere last night. She sympathizes with me, dear lady. It turns out her parents wanted her to marry a man she didn’t love either.”
Mr. Lucas glanced up at her and nodded. “Yes. If she hadn’t broken her leg spying on Lord Clayton’s horse, things might have gone quite differently for her.”
Frances eyed Mr. Lucas again. That was also odd. How did he know so much about his masters’ personal lives? And what was that about spying on a horse?
“Or…uh…so I’ve heard. In the servants’ hall,” he finished, returning his attention to the logs and the fireplace.
Oh, that was how. Now it made sense. He’d heard idle gossip. Stood to reason. Many servants loved to gossip abou
t their employers.
Frances sighed. “Yes, well, Lady Clayton took pity on me and sat me elsewhere last night, but Mama was nearly apoplectic about it so I’m certain she’s asked Lady Clayton to rectify the situation this evening. I’m afraid I’ll be sitting next to him again. But don’t worry, I promise not to cause you to spill wine on me this time.”
Mr. Lucas turned his face up to her, an unhappy look upon it. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m disappointed?”
She laughed. “You want to spill wine on me, do you?”
Mr. Lucas shrugged. “Makes for a more exciting evening than simply going from person to person asking if they’d like more goose.”
Frances laughed again. “I’m not certain which of us has the more tedious evening ahead. Do you know what it’s like to make small talk with the most boring group of people?”
Mr. Lucas’s crack of laughter shot across the room. “Are they all that bad then?”
“The ones I find myself seated next to, yes. Last night I sat next to Lady Rosalind Cranberry and all she wanted to talk about was the fabric she’d recently purchased for hair bows. Bows. For hair. Can you imagine?”
Mr. Lucas shook his head. “Very well. I admit. That doesn’t sound interesting in the least.”
“It’s not. I assure you.” Frances sighed.
“Is there no gentleman here whom you fancy?” he asked next, standing and dusting off his hands.
Frances’s cheeks burned. “Well, I—” She couldn’t exactly burst out with the word ‘you,’ no matter how desperately she was thinking it. It was inappropriate for a score of reasons.
Mr. Lucas cleared his throat. “I only mean yesterday you mentioned love. Does that mean you expect to find love before you marry?”
“If I marry at all,” she replied with a wistful sigh. “Yes, I suppose I’m naïve enough to believe that love is an essential part of marriage.”
Mr. Lucas scooped up his coat again and pulled it over his shoulders. She was only disappointed that he didn’t happen to be facing the opposite direction. The man’s backside looked as if it had been carved from stone. “Pardon me, what was that?” Drat. He’d just said something she’d completely missed.
“I said, if you’ll pardon my forwardness, my lady, I must say it’s rare to hear such a thing from a lady of your…station.”
“My station?” she repeated. “You mean you believe all ladies of the Quality are interested in marrying for money or status?”
A funny look covered his face, one that told her that’s precisely what he had thought. “My apologies, my lady, I didn’t—”
Frances waved away his apology. “It’s all right,” she said with a smile. “There’s no reason whatsoever that you and I shouldn’t be honest with one another, Mr. Lucas. For example, I envy you your freedom of choice.”
It was his turn to look surprised. “Freedom, my lady?” He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. He looked unbearably handsome that way and whatever soap he used was making her head spin. She wanted to lean up to his neck and sniff him.
“I know it sounds strange,” she replied, “but you at least have the freedom to marry. Servants are allowed to marry whomever they choose. Whomever they love.”
“Ah,” he said. She had the fleeting thought there was a bit of disappointment etched in his handsome features. “I see. You’re in love with someone other than Sir Reginald.”
She couldn’t help her laughter. “No.” She shook her head, still smiling. “No, I’m not. But I’m not in love with Sir Reginald.” She shrugged. “The truth is I’m not particularly interested in marriage at all.”
He blinked. “To anyone?”
“That’s right.” She pushed one of the errant curls behind her ear.
“What if you fell in love?” Mr. Lucas asked, studying her face intently now.
She laughed at that too. “I suppose you could say I have my doubts that will happen.”
He continued to search her face. “Why’s that?”
“Well, my mother has trotted me out in front of most of the gentlemen of the ton this year and they’re all the most boring lot of overbred stuffed shirts you could imagine.” She rolled her eyes.
He cocked his head to the other side. There was that irrepressible grin of his again. “All of them?”
“Yes.” She waved one hand in the air. “The ones I’ve met are all self-entitled horses’ asses. But that’s not the worst part.”
His eyes widened and he leaned toward her, clearly interested. “What is the worst part?”
“The worst part is they all act as if I should fall at their feet if they deign to speak to me. It’s as if the smallest bit of attention from a gentleman with a title should make me swoon dead away as far as they are all concerned.”
He looked as if he were fighting a laugh. “A title doesn’t make you swoon?”
She rolled her eyes once more. “Far from it.”
“I see. What about footmen?” He winked at her.
Her eyes went wide and she put her fists on her hips. “Why, Mr. Lucas, are you flirting with me?”
He took a step closer and looked down at her with those intense green eyes. “Of course not, Miss Wharton. That would be inappropriate.”
She wanted to fan herself. She wanted to take another step toward him and touch him. She wanted him to…kiss her. She stood there watching him, staring up into his face for what seemed like endless seconds until he stepped back, shook his head as if dispelling the charged air between them and asked, “Does Sir Reginald have nothing that redeems him in your eyes?”
Trying to get her breathing back to rights, she tapped her cheek and thought for a moment. “Not unless I can convince him to reject that hideous Employment Bill.”
Chapter Ten
Lucas strode out of the library. Blast and damnation. What in the devil’s name was happening? Things were not progressing well with Miss Frances Wharton. Not only were his friends set against her, based on what Clayton and Bell had said yesterday, but apparently, she was set against the Employment Bill of all things. Not to mention she’d indicated she wasn’t interested in marriage. How had he got himself into this situation?
Lucas had never encountered a young woman of the Quality who wasn’t interested in marriage. Perhaps their mothers were more interested, but the young ladies all certainly seemed to be as well. Had Lucas actually managed to find a woman who believed in true love but was singularly uninterested in marriage? Would she ever change her mind? Did he want her to? Not to mention, she’d just delivered a diatribe about how singularly uninterested she was in gentlemen of the Quality. He hardly believed he’d win her over by declaring himself an earl in her presence.
And the Employment Bill. How had he managed to find the one female who gave a toss about the law? And who just so happened to be on the opposite side of the matter from him? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think his friends were playing a trick on him. Putting the one woman he’d been interested in at the house party up to telling him his brother’s bill was ‘hideous.’ Only it was too ludicrous even for his friends to conceive of. No. Lucas had brought this insanity upon himself the moment he’d agreed to be a part of this charade and he deserved every moment of ridiculousness that ensued.
But the one thing he’d never counted on was the guilt. The guilt that was steadily mounting. Every time he spoke with Miss Wharton, the deeper he sank into his pack of lies. He’d told himself yesterday that he wouldn’t speak to her again. He’d promised himself that even if she happened to be in the library again today, he would be polite and proper, return her shawl and leave the room promptly. None of that had happened. Instead, he’d found himself ludicrously pleased to see her again and had quickly struck up yet another lengthy conversation with her. Poorly done of him to say the least.
He’d even managed to forget to return her shawl. Or perhaps he chose not to remember to do it. He was a fool. The proper thing to do, of course, would be to c
ut off all contact with her immediately and take himself away from this house party. But even as he had the thought he knew he wasn’t about to do it, for two reasons; one, he was loath to miss the opportunity to speak to Sir Reginald about the Employment Bill, and two, now he truly wanted to ask Miss Wharton to explain her arguments against it.
Surely Miss Wharton had heard incorrect rumors about the law. What else could explain her stance against it? Why, the codicils in the bill were meant to help people, assist the hardworking gentlemen who had to run large estates and keep the people who worked for them employed. Men like himself and Frances’s own father would be forced to turn away new tenants if the bill didn’t pass. Who would want that?
Lucas was certain Miss Wharton didn’t understand the details. Perhaps after hearing her out, he could explain it to her in a way that would make her see reason. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. Despite his guilt and his surety that continuing this charade would end in his own misery, Lucas found himself looking forward to his next meeting with Miss Wharton. It was too late to try to stay away from her. She’d seen him enough and talked to him enough to recognize him in London. He’d just have to bring more logs for the library’s fireplace tomorrow morning and see what happened next.
But first he had to speak to his friends. He needed their assistance for his meeting with Sir Reginald. Yesterday, they’d been interrupted by a guest who’d entered the library right after Worth had announced that his erstwhile fiancée had discovered him in the stables. The four men had been forced to scramble and look as if it was perfectly normal for the host and three random servants to be sitting together in the library. Clayton stood and began issuing orders, while the other three had scattered in opposite directions. Last night, Clayton sent word to change their meeting place to a storage room in the servants’ hall belowstairs. There they would have more privacy and less chance of interruption.
Lucas took the servants’ stairs down the basement two at a time. He’d spent so long speaking with Miss Wharton this morning that today he was the tardy one. His three friends were already in the small storeroom when he entered.
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